


Music Plays, the Figures Dance

by tryslora



Series: Running From Lions [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Halloween, Impregnation, Multi, Ritual Sex, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 11:10:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Hermione have a surprise for Draco during the Malfoy All Hallow's Eve Ball.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Music Plays, the Figures Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitty_fic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitty_fic/gifts).



> The title for this story comes from the song "Masquerade" by Berlin. This is sort of a gift for kitty_fic who got me started writing this particular threesome. This is a sequel to "Running From Lions" and as you might guess from reading it, there is indeed a third fic in the queue.

Draco watches them dance, a small smile lifting his lips as they spin together on the dance floor far below. He stands on the balcony, set apart from the chaos of the night, celebrating All Hallows Eve in silence and alone.

Oh, he had been amongst the crowd earlier, when the night was young. But after a time, he chose to retreat, to find quiet and peace. The halls no longer echo and ring from how empty they are, but this noise, this cacophony… this is still strange to hear in Malfoy Manor. He cannot remember when a ball like this was last hosted here. The summer before his third year, perhaps? When he was still too young to do anything but sneak down from his room and hide on the balcony, right here, and watch the revelry down below.

His gaze searches through couples on the dance floor, seeking two smiling faces, but they are gone. He frowns for a moment, hands on the edge of the rail as he leans out, bent at the waist, looking at the swirling crowd below.

The sound of footsteps is hidden by music. The feel of hands on his hips surprises him; someone stands behind him, anchoring him in place and leaning into him, pressing against his arse.

“Don’t move,” Harry whispers. “Stay just like this, leaning over.”

“I saw you dancing.” Draco is uncomfortable, just a bit, but he does as Harry asks. From this position he can see almost the entire floor, but none of them can see them in the shadows. He watches Pansy swirl by in Blaise Zabini’s arms, and Ron’s awkward steps accompanied by Lavender’s wolflike grace. They are all here, lions mixing with snakes and none bothered by that at all. This is what his life has become, and this is what his life has done to others.

“Of course we were dancing.” The voice comes from near his feet, and Draco glances down to see Hermione kneeling there. He starts to reach, to offer her a hand up, but Harry laughs and stops him.

“She’s fine. Just stand still, if you can.”

If he can? What does she intend—oh. _Oh_. Draco shivers as Hermione wedges herself between him and the railing, her body cast in shadow and shielding the lower half of his body from any possible view below. Her deft fingers undo the fly of his trousers, nudging them open. She reaches in, tugging his prick free so her tongue can tease the tip. He is already hard, aroused by the sight of her full red lips opening to take in the head of his prick. She swallows him down, and he groans, hips rocking forward to press into her mouth.

“Shhh.” A hand covers his mouth; Harry whispers in his ear. Teeth catch his earlobe, and Draco grunts softly. “Hold onto the railing,” Harry tells him. “Both hands.”

Draco does as he’s told. He couldn’t move if he wanted to, trapped between his lions as he is. He thrusts with slow rolls of his hips, not caring that Hermione tugs his trousers and boxers down, baring his arse. All he wants is what he has: both of his loves here, with their hands on him.

A hand slides down the crack of his bum, a finger teasing at his hole, and Draco bites back a groan as Harry pushes a finger inside of him. Hermione takes that moment to swallow him deeper yet, as Draco sways against the touch. “You can’t—” Draco protests, words muffled by Harry’s hand. “Not here.”

“It’s our home,” Harry points out, his words soft in Draco’s ear.

He has a point at that. The Manor now has three who live here, together, spending their nights in one bed and their days at their respective jobs or idle pastimes. The Manor is a place of family, however strange it was for them to come together. Draco feels the ring on Harry’s finger that presses against his lip, and it reminds him: they are married. They are together, here and now.

“This is our party,” Harry murmurs as he works a second finger in with the first. “And if we want to duck off into an alcove and _fuck_ , we can.” The words is low and rough, dropped into Draco’s ear like a jewel. The heat of it coils in his gut, and his hips jerk in reaction.

Hermione’s hands join Harry’s, and she works Draco’s bollocks as her mouth teases him. When Draco glances down, he sees that she has her skirt rucked up, her hand buried to the hilt with three fingers inside of herself and her thumb pressed against her clit. His breath catches at how bloody gorgeous she is like that.

“And I’m going to fuck you while you get our Hermione pregnant.” Harry’s words are punctuated by a nip to Draco’s earlobe.

_Pregnant_. Draco shivers. They had been talking about it, wondering whether they ought to do it. Whether they were strong enough together, or if they still had too many things to work out. Draco wants children—needs them for the Malfoy line. But it is Hermione who will give up her body to carry them, and the final decision must be hers.

She lets Draco’s prick slide out of her mouth with a soft pop. When she stands, a soft darkness comes with her, shrouding the three of them in mist. Draco can still see figures whirl by on the floor below, can still peer off the balcony to see their guests dance by. But he trusts Hermione and knows that none of those guests will see the three lovers, should they happen to look up.

Draco lifts Hermione onto the rail, waiting while she tucks her toes around the balusters, bracing herself. Her bodice is open, breasts enticingly displayed, and he can’t resist capturing one pink nipple in his teeth. She moans, the sound garbled by lips pressed tight together. She reaches out for his head, dragging him up so she can kiss him, and he can feel another low moan shiver through her as his prick brushes against her center.

He doesn’t want to wait; hands on her hips, he plunges into her, capturing her cry with his mouth.

He stills then as Harry presses another finger into his arse. Three now, stretching him wide; Draco presses back against him briefly, then slides forward, deep inside of Hermione.

When Harry moves behind him and slowly starts to push his prick into Draco, it is Draco’s turn to groan. Between two lovers: this is perfect. Harry fucks him slowly, going deep with every press and pushing Draco into Hermione. Draco wants to cry out from frustration, wants to speed up, wants to spill so deep inside of Hermione… he hears a soft whisper and pulls back to look at her.

She smiles and kisses him. “Fertility ritual,” she says softly. “Now get me pregnant, Draco.”

Harry rocks his hips _just so_ , and Draco groans as his prostate is touched. Nothing can stop him now. He feels his balls tightening, but he doesn’t want to leave Hermione behind. He teases her breast with one hand, pinching the nipple roughly between his fingertips as he fucks her hard. Her mouth is buried against his neck, every thrust making her cry out and moan. He is close, so close, but he needs her to come first, needs to feel that she is pleased.

Harry manages to work a finger between the two of them, just barely brushing against Hermione’s clit. Her hips buck and that is all she needs, her body clenching around Draco as she orgasms. Draco presses into her as hard as he can, as deep as he can, spilling inside of her. His arse grips Harry’s prick tightly, and a moment later there is a low groan as Harry fills Draco.

Their rough breath underlines the soft waltz that begins to play, and Draco laughs at the dichotomy of the soft sweet music, and their rough fuck.

He cradles Hermione’s head against his shoulder. She seems comfortable enough on the rail as long as he supports her, and he doesn’t want to leave this position right now, sandwiched between the two of them, both filling and filled.

“Why tonight?” Draco has to ask.

“It’s magical.” Her voice is her instructor voice. “Tonight is an auspicious night for magical beginnings, as well as for a fertility ritual. Not as good as Beltane, of course, but I thought it would suffice.”

“I thought tonight was about the thin barriers between our world and the one beyond the veil.” It wouldn’t be the first time Hermione has known something Draco doesn’t, but he still prickles every time it happens, particularly when it comes to rituals of the magical world.

“That’s exactly it,” Harry says. He pulls free and Draco feels the loss keenly, but a moment later they are all three slowly doing up their clothing. “Tonight is about crossing that line. It’s also the night when those who might have the most impact on us from that side of the veil are with us. Your parents and mine, and anyone else who might watch over us.”

“I didn’t want to wait until May,” Hermione admits. “I thought tonight would be a good choice.”

“I supposed we’ll know in a few weeks.” Draco kisses her then, and is pulled into a kiss with Harry when the first kiss ends. The three stand together comfortably, and it is hard for Draco to realize that it hasn’t been all that long that they have been together. There are times when it seems this has been something he has waited for his whole life. And yet, there are still times when he wakes in the morning and is amazed that this is his life, and it seems so new.

He watches Harry help Hermione put her bodice back together and neaten her hair, capturing errant curls so she doesn’t look quite so freshly fucked. They glance over the balcony, and Draco’s gaze follows theirs as Hermione leans out, waving until Ron and Lavender look up and wave back.

This is his life now, and strange as it is—and strange as it might become—Draco likes it this way. The music plays on, and he takes Harry and Hermione by their hands and leads them down the stairs back into the ballroom.

Together they will dance.


End file.
